Runaways and Hot Dogs
by Sabriel41
Summary: “Don’t, Zell. Let me be pretend to be the eversmiling ‘Messenger Girl,’ and just be the klutzy, funny fistfighter I know… it’s easier that way.” Zell and Selphie learn that they share illusions, and that the best meetings are bittersweet.


**Runaways and Hot Dogs

* * *

**

Stepping behind the bar for the night, the bartender sighed as he looked at the girl sitting on the other side of the bar. She looked too young to be here… but, he mused, it wasn't his job to tell her that. She got past Artos at the door, after all; she must be old enough to be half-slumped onto the bar, oblivious of her surroundings and nursing a Paralyzer mingled with what looked like tears.

It didn't mean that he had to like it, though. She looked a little like one of his daughters – he had two that probably were around her age, and he knew that he wouldn't want them in a position like the one this girl had seemingly placed herself in.

He moved over to her; it certainly appeared that she was a little tipsy, and he hoped his presence would dissuade any of the other patrons from trying to get too close to the girl. While his best guess was that she could take care of herself – even in the dim light of the bar, her outfit clearly indicated that she had ties to the nearby Balamb Garden, and the unfamiliar weapon at her side certainly looked well-loved – it was unlikely that she had much experience fighting while inebriated.

It was then that a pair of green eyes rimmed with red looked up at him accusingly from over the near-empty highball glass. "What d'you want," she asked, slurring her words slightly.

"Just wanted to see if you were all right, miss," the bartender replied carefully. "It's not always safe for young women to come to bars alone these days…"

"I'm fine," she snapped, looking back down at her drink.

He nodded, hands moving to mix a drink that was called for from further down the bar. Her reaction was a telltale sign of someone who _wasn't _fine, and moreover wanted to talk about it. Eventually.

So he waited.

This time, when the girl spoke up, he looked closer at her features. She was younger than he had thought, though her eyes seemed dulled by more than the dim light and cigarette smoke. She looked vaguely familiar, the little brunette, but he couldn't place her.

"Actually," she murmured, "could you get me another drink?"

"You sure?" He had to look at her skeptically at her request. She was already showing the effects of the last one, and she was _tiny,_ which usually signaled little to no ability to take alcohol in large quantities.

Slowly and carefully pronouncing each syllable, she replied. "Ab-so-lute-ly."

"Fine then," he said. "I'll mix you another. But I'm also going to find you a ride back to your place – you're certainly not walking back to Garden like that."

Horrified green eyes met his at this. "You… you _can't."_

"Why not?"

This time, the eyes were petulant more than anything. But, he noticed, at least she had stopped crying. Still, he could barely hear her as she whispered, lower lip trembling, "…ran 'way…"

He slid the drink he had mixed earlier down the bar, waving off the gil note that the younger man waved. The young man, a redhead sporting a dark blue cowboy hat, chuckled at something one of his friends whispered to him, and grinned at the bartender once he realized his usually expensive drink was 'on the house.'

Selphie looked up, her vision blurred by unshed tears, to see what had captured the older man's attention. Catching sight of the redhead, she almost fell off her barstool as she gasped painfully. Tears sprung to her eyes, but the combination of her fast reflexes and the bartender's quick grasp of her wrist prevented the little brunette from falling to the floor.

Seconds later, a steady hand on her shoulder caused her head to spin around. It was the redhead from down the bar, the bartender realized, undoubtedly attracted by the spectacle that the girl had unwittingly caused.

"Y'all right there, little lady?" Drawling softly at her, he smiled at her as he studiously ignored the wolf whistles and hollers from his group of friends further down the bar.

She wiped the few rogue tears from her face before spinning slowly around on her stool, and raising her eyes to his, which were curiously hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. "Ir…vine?" she asked haltingly.

"Nah," he replied. "Name's Ashe. Now, now, don't make fun of it – Ah know it's a strange name, but my Pa… he insisted, ya know." The corners of his eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses, he smiled. "Ah can't say Ah know this Irvine fella – he your boy?"

"No…not anymore," she sniffled, but her voice and eyes took on a determined cast as she thought of how she had found the man – although the categorization was doubtable – this evening. _He had promised. Promised!_ _But obviously_, she mused, _even a vow didn't seem to mean much to the gunslinger I foolishly thought was mine…_

"Think Ah'm glad not to be this Irvine, then," Ashe noted, pulling a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and handing it to her. "Here. Pretty girls like you shouldn't be cryin' like that."

"I'm not pretty," she mumbled. "My eyes are all red, and my hair is mussed. You're just being nice cause you want what all guys want…" Realizing too late what she had just said, Selphie clapped her hands over her mouth and turned a violent shade of red. "Um… I mean… I'm sorry, mister. I didn't mean to say that…"

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Don't worry 'bout it; Ah'm flattered, really. But you see that black-haired girl… the tall one, fendin' off that rubble Ah call friends? Pretty, ain't she?"

Selphie couldn't do anything but nod in assent. Tall and willowy… eyes sparkling as she bantered with the group of guys in her midst, the girl in question looked like she had just stepped from betwixt the pages of a magazine. The polar opposite of how _she _looked, Selphie was sure, and so she dropped her eyes to the floor abashedly. "Sure," she mumbled.

"You're prob'ly wondering what she's doin' with someone like me, aren't ya?"

She diverted her eyes from the group to the redhead at his words. "I don't understand. You're not ugly at all." Selphie winced. _Again._ "Sorry, mister…"

"Ashe," he reminded.

"Sorry, Ashe," she amended. "'S the alcohol, I think." Selphie giggled a little bit, and rested one arm behind her back to steady herself against the bar. "It makes me say silly things…"

He smiled again, this time with a hint of sadness. "It's all right. You have a name, little lady?"

"Selphie," she said. "I'm Selphie." Holding out her hand for him to shake – some Garden traditions seemed to hold fast even when inebriated, she noted wryly – she raised an eyebrow in surprise when he made no move to take it.

Instead, he sighed, and turned his face back towards her. "Ah think Ah understand what you're goin' through, Selphie," Ashe said quietly. "Never used ta think too highly o' myself, till Laetitia came 'round. Most girls wouldn't look twice at me, after a while…"

"Are you _kidding?_" Selphie asked, intoxication making her words more candid than usual. "They must be blind."

"No," the redhead replied. "They weren't." Using one hand to lower his sunglasses, Ashe continued.

She could see his eyes now… and they were clouded… pale, pale blue… and sightless.

"…I was."

Feeling like a complete cad, Selphie stood, and reached out an arm to touch his shoulder in a gesture of apology. "You're probably tired of hearing it, but I'm sorry…can't seem to say anything right tonight…"

"No offense taken, little Selphie," Ashe said. He then surprised her completely by taking her into his arms and giving her a gentle hug.

She was about ready to drop the redhead – he had been nice to her, and one of the unwritten Rules of the Universe _had_ to be you couldn't deck a blind guy – but there were some things you just didn't do with someone the first time you met them. Deciding against it, Selphie took a deep breath and looked timorously to her right.

True to form, it appeared that Ashe's guy buddies were amused to no end by the situation, making puppy dog faces and clicking invisible cameras at the pair. Heartened by their jest, she made a face in return, prompting a chuckle from a few. But Selphie's eyes froze in surprise as they met Laetitia's. Instead of malice or fury, the girl's brown eyes reflected what could only be understanding at the girl presently wrapped in _her_ boyfriend's arms.

Ashe's soft words snapped Selphie out of her confused state. "She's smiling, ain't she?"

"Laetitia? …Wait, how'd you know?"

"Ah can feel it – you relaxed. Ah gotta let you go, little Selph – Laetitia's a goddess among women, but ya know… she's still a woman."

Selphie made to move backwards, but his arms did not relax. "Uh…" she began ineloquently. "You kinda have to _let_ me go, remember?"

This time, the smile that broke across Ashe's face was mirthful. "Jes' some parting words, little lady – keep smiling. You're beautiful when you smile, and Ah suspect someday soon, some lucky lad'll see you as stunnin' even when ya don't. He'll make you feel beautiful, like Let did for me…"

"You're just a big sap at heart, aren't you?" Giggling, Selphie stepped backwards, this time out of Ashe's embrace, and for the first time that night, returned his sheepish grin with her trademark smile. Perhaps it wasn't at its brightest brilliance, but it had promise.

Her thoughts, however, were interrupted by a shout coming from the entrance of the bar: a shout that seemed to be calling her name in rapid succession. The voice sounded _so _familiar, but her alcohol-fogged brain could not quite identify it…

"Friend o' yours?" Ashe asked.

"Can't tell," Selphie replied. "Can't see him. I hate being short." She paused, her voice taking on almost a fearful note. "Irvine…"

"Ya don't want to see him, do ya, Selphie?"

She forced a smile, but Selphie knew that even _he_ could sense it was fake. "No…" she whispered. "Hey, you're tall! I'd have you describe who's coming, cause you could probably see over the crowd, but…"

"No need; Ah think he's seen us, 'cause his voice is much closer now." Ashe paused, furrowed his brow in concentration, and gestured roughly behind him and to Selphie's right. "My money says… that way."

Just then, a flash of blond hair and a curiously shaped tattoo caught Selphie's eye through the crowd.

"Zell! Over here!" To her ears, it sounded like she was yelling, but to Ashe, it sounded more like a gurgle. It was high time, he mused, for someone to come looking for the little brunette. It was clear that she trusted whoever this "Zell" was, so he figured he could lend her a hand. It seemed the two of them needed a little bit of help to find each other anyways…

"ZELL!" he hollered.

Everyone within ten feet of Ashe and Selphie froze.

A relatively short blond man standing within the crowd spun around, confused. "Huh?"

"Thanks. They're _all_ staring." Selphie hissed at the redhead, the embarrassed hue of her cheeks competing with his hair for vibrancy.

"Uhh… Sorry, folks. Ah overdid it a little." Aside, to Selphie, he added with a grin as the masses turned back to their own conversations, "He heard, Selphie; he's coming."

"Selphie? Selphie!" Confusion warred with worry warred with relief across the features of the approaching Zell Dincht, but as he caught sight of the brunette girl, relief seemed to win.

The girl in question proceeded to rub all traces of tears from her eyes, and paste an even more cheerful smile on her face. It was one thing to let a stranger see you cry; it was another to cry in front of those who you had to be strong in front of. "That's me, Zell. What're you doing here? You're not supposed to be away from Garden."

"Right back at'cha, Selph… Last I recalled, you weren't supposed to be, either." But his lazy grin faded as he approached and the red circles under Selphie's eyes became apparent. Taking in the three empty glasses at her elbow, and the unfamiliar man in proximity to her, Zell frowned. "What's going on, Selphie? And who's the Irvine lookalike?"

She winced at his words, and looked at Ashe apologetically, before she realized that it would have no effect on the other man. Turning to face her fellow SeeD, head spinning slightly at the action, Selphie took a deep breath before beginning. "Zell… I'm _fine._ I'm not a kid anymore, all right? Came here cause I wanted to. And I'm still in one piece, healthy…" she hiccupped, and he looked at her skeptically. "…well, mostly. C'mere - the barkeep makes a killer Paralyzer, and heck, what's one more, right? I'll have him mix you one."

"And…?" the blond asked expectantly, carefully approaching his friend.

"Oh, yeah. Zell, this is Ashe. Ashe, this is my friend, Zell." Almost angrily, her eyes met Zell's. "Happy now?"

Ashe looked carefully between the two; the boy's concern for his friend was almost palpable, and it was clear that Selphie was accepting of his presence, if not comfortable… Tipping his hat at the brunette, he spoke up. "Ah should probably return to my friends now; was a pleasure meetin' ya, Selphie, and remember what Ah told ya."

"I will… Say 'hey' to Laetitia and your buddies for me," she replied in a much gentler tone, returning his handkerchief to his jacket pocket.

He nodded, and then addressed the blond. "Nice meeting you too, Zell. Take care of the little lady, now."

Zell's eyes softened as he answered. "I will. Thanks for keeping an eye on Selphie in the meanwhile, but Hyne, man, you could give Seifer a run for his money at hollering, ya know?"

"Ah'll just take that as a compliment," Ashe replied cautiously. "Ciao, now…" He waved once at them as he walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

Zell turned to find Selphie Tilmitt grinning evilly at him, matching highball glasses in each hand. And despite the fact that he had seen things that would make the most stalwart hearts crumple with fear amidst the Sorceress War, Zell felt a familiar frisson of alarm shiver down his spine as his friend's look took on a predatory glint. This was going to be interesting at the very least, but he wasn't about to leave her either…

It was then that a curious thought struck him. Five drinks that he knew about, and they weren't cheap draft ale, either; that added up to a lot of gil in a place like this. "How'd you pay for all of this, Selph?"

She ignored his words, and offered him one of the glasses. "No fun, Zell… what happened to your sense of adventure?"

He sighed, took the drink, and steered her to a booth that was, miraculously for this time of night, unoccupied. After ensuring that Selphie was half-seated, half-curled into the bench seat, he replied. "I think I left it back at Garden, Selph. I saw you flyin' out of the place like a bat out of Hell, and, uh…"

Selphie couldn't restrain a girlish giggle at his words. "So you decided to rescue me from 'a fate worse than death, is that it?'"

"You mockin' me, Selphie?"

"Only if you want me to. 'Sides, it's kinda cute, you doing this. Irvy would never…" She never finished her sentence, cutting herself off with a swig of the drink cradled between her hands.

He gulped. He'd guessed as much; few things could rattle Selphie to the point of, well, drunkenness, but the flirtatious gunslinger was obviously one of them. Seeing Irvine 'settle down' with Selphie last month was a relief; as friends to both of them, seeing the former peaceful, and the latter happy was a wonderful thing.

But while Zell knew that Irvine tried his best to remain 'settled'… he also knew that his friend wasn't doing the best job of it. And now, Selphie had found out, if her tearstained eyes and aggressive grasp of the glass meant anything. _She looks awfully pretty, all flushed like that,_ a seditious voice murmured amidst his thoughts. _Mussed hair, flashing eyes… a right Fury, or a Siren, perhaps?_

Horrified at the direction his subconscious seemed to be taking, Zell took a gulp of his drink to match Selphie's. The vodka burned on the way down, but at least it cleared the murmurs from the back of his mind. He was _not_ going to think like that; Selphie was Irvine's girl, from way before they ever declared it officially. _But… he's the reason she's here, isn't he?_ The voices were back, and Zell groaned.

"And they said _I_ couldn't hold my liquor," Selphie crowed triumphantly, misinterpreting the reason for the sound. "Zell, that's sad, my friend."

"I can _so_ hold my liquor," Zell retorted petulantly, remembering too late that entering into a pouting contest with Selphie was… well… futile. "I was just thinking, is all…"

"I see," Selphie replied. Eyes sparking with some semblance of their usual light, she added, "…it hurt much?"

Two could play at _that_ game, Zell decided. Grabbing one of her hands from where it encircled her drink, he sighed dramatically, and clutched at his heart for emphasis. "Selphie, you wound me to the quick. I am actually quite a thinker, you know…"

"Sure you are," she chuckled. "And I'm quite a drinker. By the way, Zell? Your heart's, um, on the _other_ left."

At her words, he shifted his hand, but it froze halfway to its new destination as he reconsidered the intent in her dancing eyes. "Waaaaaait…"

"Gotcha."

He couldn't help it; he pouted. "No fair picking on the blond," Zell sulked playfully. But if he could, he was going to try to help her. Dangerous voices in the back of his head or not, Selphie was his friend, and it hurt him to see her so fragile, and yet trying her darnedest to smile through the shards of her heart. "So, Selphie…"

But she picked up something in the tone of his voice; her smile became more guarded, and she leaned away from him and into the back of the booth. "Don't, Zell. Just… don't. Let me be pretend to be the ever-smiling 'Messenger Girl,' and just be the klutzy, funny fistfighter I know… it's easier like that."

"Is that all I am, Selph?" Eyes deadly serious for once, Zell's voice was quiet. "I'm not a bloody hero like the Commander, but I'd like to think I've got a little more to me than that…"

Her response was fierce, although she somehow curled into a protective ball as she said it. "Of course you do! But it's like you said when you got here: 'what was I doing here?' Why in _Hyne's_ name is happy-go-lucky Selphie Tilmitt crying? She's got no right to cry… no reason…"

She hiccupped, and he quickly swung around from his side of the table to hers, curling a tentative arm around her shoulders. Oh, he might burn in Hades someday for this, but she needed a friend, and that was what he would be, because he chose to stand by her. To his surprise, she curled further against his side instead of freezing or pushing him aside, as he had suspected she would do. They sat in silence for a few moments… not quite companionable, not quite peaceful… but her breathing slowed as the seconds ticked by, and their drinks sat, forgotten, side by side on the table.

That was why he was surprised when she turned in his one-armed embrace, and picked up where she had left off. "I have right. I have reason. I can darn well cry if I want to, and I can blame it on Irvine if I want to, too…"

Nodding slowly, he ran a hand through her hair in an attempt to soothe the girl, whose mood swings were moving towards the 'formidable' range. "Didn't say you couldn't, Selph, and I know that I'm probably not the first person you want to talk to, cause Rin and Quistis know more 'bout the whole 'boy problems' thing than me. I don't get too many of those…"

Sharing a wry grin with the brunette now practically curled into his lap – and praying that Irvine and whatever girl he had foolishly dallied with did not decide to take a midnight stroll into this particular tavern at this point in time - Zell steeled himself, and then continued. "Guess what I'm tryin' to say is that you can talk to me, Selph. And I don't care if you cry, and make my shirt all soggy. I can't promise I'll help you all that much, but I'll listen, if ya want."

"I know," she replied. "I just feel like I have to… be strong around them, you know? Like – that's what they expect, so that's what I am."

"I think we all do that, Selph - you more than some, though. Which is okay, but you have to know when to let off steam, or I'll be stuck cleaning up itty-bitty Selphie-bits from random walls someday. And I really, _really_ don't want to do that." Grinning down at her – barely, as there wasn't really much of a height difference between the two – his smile grew as he saw hers form. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

"You really _are_ a thinker," her voice murmured, a little surprised in tone. "Who'd have thought it?"

"Well, I'm certainly not just a pretty face," he answered, pulling an affronted expression at her look of mock disbelief. "You should hear my philosophy about hot dogs."

"…hot…dogs…?" Yawning slightly, she burrowed further into his chest.

Zell did his best not to notice this new development, instead focusing his energy on replying. "Yup."

"Anyone ever tell you that you were crazy, Zell?"

"Only every day, Selphie."

She chuckled at his candid tone, and prodded him in the side with her fingers. "Could it be 'cause you are, I wonder? So… enlighten me."

Settling himself more comfortably against the backrest of the booth, careful not to disrupt the girl curled against him, Zell began. "You see, I always found hot dogs fascinating. Everyone looks at them like they're boring picnic food, and to some degree, they're right. But if you think about it, hot dogs are really quite an interesting food… you could be eating _anything _when you ate a hot dog, and not know it, ya know? They're like the ultimate delicacy in that there's more to them than people see at first glance…"

"Kinda like us, eh, Zell?" Selphie's voice was soft, and her head slumped against his shoulder. Half asleep, he was almost sure. But she had a point – ironically the one that he was trying to hint towards.

His reply was equally quiet. "Yeah, Selph; kinda like us…"

"I never thought that being compared to a hot dog would be a good thing," she murmured. "But, thanks, corny as it is." Impulsively, Selphie slung her free arm around Zell in a haphazard hug, her green eyes clouding in the first signs of sleep. "You're my favorite guy, Zell…"

Now taking a figurative sledgehammer to the voices in the back of his mind, Zell struggled to find words. Denial had stopped working five minutes ago, and polite conversation certainly was creating unexpected results. _But not unwanted ones,_ he thought. **_That_'s **_the problem…_

"We've gotta get back to Garden tonight, don't we?" Once again, her voice broke up his dissenting thoughts.

"Mmhmm."

"I don't think I can walk all the way… I'm tired." Bright green eyes locked on his own, and while he knew he was being manipulated ever-so-slightly, he couldn't look away. "You'll carry me, right?"

Zell sighed. "'Course I will, Selph."

As he moved to scoop her up – wishing for what he knew wasn't going to be the last time that night that he hadn't trained for the extra half-hour earlier– those emerald eyes met his once again, this time hooded with sleep, and something he hesitated to identify.

"Just - don't tell anyone, okay? Don't want them… thinking I'm all weak and girly…"

"Sure, Selph," he whispered into her hair as he pulled her out of the booth and into his arms. Placing a couple of fifty-gil notes on the table to cover the drinks and smiling at the bartender, Zell headed for the exit, his arms full of a peacefully unconscious Selphie Tilmitt. "Our little secret."

He stepped out of the smoke and darkness of the bar with her, and walked into the starlight.

_**. o .**_

_…fin…_

_**. o .**_

DISCLAIMER: FF8 and all characters belong to Square Enix and affiliates. The only things I can lay claim to are the plot, Ashe, and that nameless bartender…

SABRIEL'S SCRIBBLES: After reading a little of the FF8 fanon, I thought I would try my hand at this; Zell/Selphie was never really a pairing I favored as I read, but this story seemed to write itself, and who am I to argue with that?

As my first attempt in this particular fandom, any comments or constructive suggestions are welcome; Peace, and Starry Nights.


End file.
